


Paper Flowers

by bellefire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chris is a romantic, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mostly because Victoria isn't around, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Peter is not immune, Peter is the Left Hand, Toddler Cora, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 01:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18064166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellefire/pseuds/bellefire
Summary: Peter is having a terrible time of it, a certain hunter showing up may or may not make it better. People really ought to stop leaving their kids with him.





	Paper Flowers

**Paper Flowers**

 

 

  
Cora is screaming. She’s been screaming for an eternity now. Peter has aged roughly fifty years since she’s started. He doesn’t deserve this, he’s maybe not a good person but he’s very good to certain people, which should be enough in the grand scheme of the universe. Definitely doesn’t deserve having to stand in the middle of an annoyingly busy gas station with a turbulent three year old.

Peter had just needed to fuel up and didn’t feel great about leaving his tiny niece in the backseat on a hot summer day because the damned card reader was malfunctioning. All he needed was a bright-eyed deputy rolling up a minute later and try prying her out of his Jag. The ruined paint job alone would result in bodies to hide, security footage to destroy too.

  
A hassle all in all.

  
Everything had been fine until Cora honed in like a heat-seeking missile on the corner of gaudy gas station gifts every place in California seems to have. To her eyes it apparently was the Cave of Wonders and Peter was the cruel fanged guardian keeping her from such treasure as rhinestone bedazzled pocket knives and mini I heart Cali snow globes. Now said three year old is shrieking into his shoulder, her little fists wrinkling the hell out of his Varvatos shirt spreading tears and snot everywhere.

  
Peter pats her back absently, more or less staring off into the void and uncaring of the looks being cast his way. If he has to suffer everyone else should suffer too. There’s is a reason he never thought about having kids himself. Talia’s brood is more than enough. If anyone hurt any of those kids he’d tear them limb from limb, obviously, but this nonsense? Not his division by any means. This is the last time he babysits, he vows knowing he’s lying to himself as he does it. At least Cora hasn’t learned to shift yet, society frowns on putting bags over children’s heads.

  
“You look a little lost.” Says a voice at Peter’s back, he manages not to flash his own eyes at the surprise and slaps a faux charming grin on his face as he turns on his heel hoping he doesn’t look too much like a kidnapper.

  
The smell of subtle arousal and concern hit his noise before Peter really processes who he’s looking at. He’s only been in town for a week from L.A. and he’s already got an Argent cornering him with one of the little ones. Unacceptable, even if it is the best looking Argent. The hunter has perfect teeth and a chivalrous smile that Peter can tell could easily turn threatening, he’s just tall enough to force him to have to look up so that Peter’s baring his throat that tiny uncomfortable bit. He bites the side of his mouth until it bleeds to keep the snarl down.

  
While the Hale’s keep tabs on all the major hunter families thus far they’ve managed to stay off their grid. The few hunters that have succeeded in identifying them as a pack in the past, well, Talia’s gotten pretty good at picking memories out of fragile human minds and when that’s not possible that’s what Peter’s there for. Peter doubts Argent would be so polite to wolves if he knew what they were, but he’s not one to be under-cautious. Quite the opposite. He angles Cora away from the hunter and keeps his smile firmly in place.

  
“I have a daughter about that age, sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” An attractive flush barely dusts the hunter’s cheekbones and he scratches the back of his neck.

  
Genuine embarrassment wafts off him, normally Peter would revel in that sort of thing however Cora’s face is turning a concerning shade of red and shows no sign of stopping her wailing.

  
“My niece,” Peter volunteers smooth as butter, “Any advice that’ll keep my eardrums intact would be greatly appreciated.” If the hunter does anything untoward he can always follow him out and stuff him in the trunk somewhere more private. Which would be a shame, he just got his car detailed.

  
Argent chuckles and takes out his wallet pulling out a pink metallic square piece of paper that Cora zeroes in on with predatory sharpness more magpie than wolf.

  
“Since I’ve been on my own with her, my daughter I mean,” Chris explains, “I’ve learned a little bribery goes a long way. Maybe not the best way to do it, but.” He shrugs. Peter does not miss the clue that perhaps a wife or husband is not in the picture anymore. Clumsy, but Peter’s heard worse things out of the mouths of people who’ve tried to talk to him.

  
Clever fingers fold the paper into a delicate origami flower and offers it to Cora a respectable distance away, Peter can’t help but think about what else those fingers would be good at. Cora’s choked off squalling stops abruptly, with an ill-disguised scowl Peter allows her to lean out of his grasp slightly to snatch the flower out of the hunter’s hand.

  
Peter stares down at her quiet delight, “You traitorous little potato.”

  
Her big brown eyes are entranced by the almost sharp edges and the shine of the paper, a second later she’s using one of those edges to stab Peter in the arm ruining the flower for the most part but doing wonders for her mood. Peter decides to remember this moment in the future, maybe around the time his little hellion niece starts dating. She’ll never see him coming.

  
Argent’s laugh is low and rough enough to set chills across the skin, not Peter’s—he has better control than that thank you very fucking much.

  
“Chris,” the hunter offers up a hand, “Argent.”

  
Peter shoulders Cora unto one arm and takes the hunter’s grip in his own, “Peter.”

  
“No last name?”

  
Peter shrugs coyly.

  
Argent takes this in stride too. His hand lingers a bit too long in letting Peter go then drops back, something self-deprecating flickers across his face and really, how ridiculous. With any other last name, at any other time when there wasn’t an honestly shocking amount of toddler snot on his shirt, Peter would be a sure thing.

  
Alas. Peter situates Cora once more and smiles something much softer at the other man, “Well, thank you…Chris. For your help. I’ll keep the bribery thing in mind for next time.”

  
“Uh, right, right, sure it was no problem. I’ll see you around maybe?” Argent looks slightly less confident than before. Peter almost feels bad about it.

  
He smirks, “Maybe.”

  
With that he finally gets to paying for his gas and doesn’t turn to look at Argent once despite knowing exactly where he is in the store. The man’s heartbeat is getting a little erratic which is in fact concerning when said man is a werewolf hunter in the vicinity of two werewolves. Peter is making to hurry out the door as low-key as he can when Argent calls out to him last minute. He keeps going until he’s outside and halfway to his car before something makes him stop and wait for the hunter to catch up. He doesn’t have a word for the feeling nagging at him.

  
“Sorry, I don’t mean to, ah.” Argent is blushing but everything else about him is resolute. “Here, for you. I really do hope to see you again.”

  
Another origami flower is pushed at Peter and in the next too fast moment Argent has rushed over to his own vehicle—a garish black SUV parked at a neighboring pump. He speeds out of there like a bat out of hell.

  
Feeling a little dumbstruck Peter peers down at the tiny gift, on the inside petals a number is written in clear concise strokes.

  
“Well, fuck.” Peter says.

  
Like some type of solemn war veteran Cora affirms in her sweet little voice, “Fuck.”

  
He sighs, “You can say that again.”

  
Cora opens her mouth, Peter promptly covers it, “That was rhetorical, potato.”

  
He shouldn’t keep the flower. That is not the smart thing to do, he is all about the smart things, right? The thought consumes him all through buckling Cora into her safety seat and starting the car.

  
Peter pauses and looks into the rearview mirror at his niece, “Actually, you know what, my little demonic potato? Really this is all your mother’s fault and no matter what she’s going to be irate. So let’s do the alphabet. A is for asshole which I get the inkling Derek is well on his way to being, B is for…”

  
Peter keeps the flower. Cora expands her vocabulary.

 

~*~

 


End file.
